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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823095">Fidûcia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon'>sheafrotherdon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Edging, Love, M/M, Trust</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:08:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,396</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“God,” Joe says as Nicky kisses a line from his ear to his shoulder, one hand slipping beneath Joe’s shirt.  “Feels like we haven’t done this in . . .”</p><p>“Too long,” Nicky finishes for him before finding his way back to Joe’s mouth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>662</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fidûcia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At the end of three months—after job after job, one leading into the next, traveling by every means imaginable, none offering comfort—Nicky checks them both into a hotel they haven’t visited since the 1920s.  The recent renovations haven’t dimmed the charm that Joe remembers, and their room looks out over the ocean again, with doors that open to a balcony above a garden.</p><p>“A good choice?” Nicky asks as Joe tips back his head and inhales the sea breeze.</p><p>“The best choice,” Joe replies, and kisses Nicky sweetly before heading to the bathroom, intent on using as much hot water as he can manage.  That he still feels like he has a ring of grit around his neck when he’s finished is testimony to how long they’ve been on the road, but tired down to the marrow of his bones, Joe tumbles into bed regardless.  The mattress is broad, the sheets crisp and white, and Nicky is almost asleep, lying on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms.</p><p>“Comfortable?” asks Joe.</p><p>Nicky responds with a smile and closes his eyes.</p><p>They have nowhere to go and nowhere to be—they spend the morning trading lazy kisses, too tired and comfortable to want to do more.  Nicky finally drags Joe out of bed at lunchtime, insists on fresh fish and white wine by the harbor, and Joe can do nothing but indulge him.  They linger over their meal, wander the streets of town in the afternoon, Joe watching contentedly as Nicky barters at different storefronts, picking out small gifts he’ll give to Andy and Nile when they get back together again.  There’s heat enough to make them both sweat, to seek out the cool of their room again afterwards, and to doze contentedly together.</p><p>“We should change before dinner,” Nicky says at last, stretching.  His shirt rides up, and Joe drags two fingers across the bare expanse of his stomach.</p><p>“Are you taking me someplace good?” Joe asks.</p><p>“I have plans,” Nicky replies enigmatically, and there’s a flash of mischief in his gaze, enough to make Joe curious and willing.</p><p>The plans, whatever they are, don’t surface during dinner, nor on their walk home at dusk.  But once Joe closes the hotel room door Nicky crowds him back up against it, kissing him with a warmth and urgency that Joe eagerly reciprocates.  “God,” Joe says as Nicky kisses a line from his ear to his shoulder, one hand slipping beneath Joe’s shirt.  “Feels like we haven’t done this in . . .”</p><p>“Too long,” Nicky finishes for him before finding his way back to Joe’s mouth.  His kiss is hot and slick, and Joe loses himself in the sheer joy of it, pulling Nicky closer, moaning softly as Nicky pulls at his bottom lip.  They shift, Nicky working blindly at the buttons on Joe’s shirt, Joe helping as best he can until he can shrug it off all together.  Nicky pauses, and Joe appreciates how swollen Nicky’s lips are, how he’s already managed to mess up Nicky’s hair. </p><p>“You’re beautiful,” Nicky says simply, and Joe reels him back in, kisses him again, hands pulling Nicky’s shirt from his pants.  Nicky pulls away just enough to look down and unbuckle Joe’s belt, and then he’s kissing him once more, hand sliding to palm Joe’s dick.</p><p>“Bed,” Joe gasps.</p><p>“Take these off, first,” Nicky says, and Joe doesn’t think, just does as he’s told, toeing off his shoes and stumbling out of his pants, pulling Nicky back with him toward the bed. </p><p>Joe breaks their kiss to laugh as his legs hit the mattress and he sits.  Nicky smiles, bends to kiss him again, but then pulls away to whisper, “Lie down for me,” and it’s like Joe’s been punched in the gut with want.  He swallows, and raises an eyebrow, aiming for nonchalance.  He has a good sense that he’s failing miserably.</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“Against the pillows.”</p><p>Joe scoots back and shifts until he’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, legs parted, arms spread wide.  He’s acutely conscious of the fact that he’s naked, and hard, and Nicky’s fully clothed and looking at him dangerously.  “Like this?”</p><p>“Mmmhmmm.”  Nicky presses one knee into the mattress between Joe’s legs and licks his palm, takes Joe’s dick in his hand and works him steadily, never breaking eye contact, until Joe’s harder, arching up to press himself into Nicky’s grip.</p><p>And then Nicky’s hand is gone.  “Stay still,” says Nicky, and crosses the room to sit.</p><p>“Fuck,” Joe manages.  “We’re . . .”</p><p>“Shhhhh,” Nicky says with a half-smile.  “Let me study you.”</p><p>Joe swallows hard.  “Shit,” he gasps, laughing softly, tipping his head back into the pillows and closing his eyes.  It doesn’t help.  With his eyes closed his other senses come that much more alive, and he can hear Nicky’s soft laughter, hear Nicky take off his shoes—one, then the other-- hear the soft rasp of fabric against fabric as Nicky moves.  Joe focuses on his breathing, rather than on the fact that there is nothing more he wants in the world than Nicky’s hands on him right now.  He knows, from past experience, that if he articulates that thought, Nicky will take even longer to give that to him.</p><p>“I love watching you,” says Nicky, and Joe shivers head to toe at the tone of his voice.  “Seeing you like this, spread out for me . . .”</p><p>Joe’s dick bobs, his skin pebbling from the breeze coming in the open windows.  He can only imagine how he looks, skin flushed, dick hard, legs parted. He shifts against the bed, tilting his hips and relaxing them, barely conscious of doing so.</p><p>Nicky tsks very gently. </p><p>Joe pulls in a deep breath and wills himself to stillness, tries to concentrate on something, anything but Nicky and the weight of his gaze.  He whines softly.</p><p>“Beautiful,” Nicky says, and Joe opens his eyes to watch him stand and cross to the bed.  Nicky’s hand cups Joe’s foot, runs up and over his ankle and calf to skim up the inside of his thigh.  Joe tries not to press up into the touch, is rewarded by Nicky thumbing the head of his cock where he’s already slick, smoothing pre-come up and down his shaft before gripping him firmly and working him once, twice, three times . . . and then stilling his hand.</p><p>Joe makes a strangled noise, his breathing uneven.</p><p> “<i>Yusuf,</i>” Nicky says, and the timbre of his voice sets something electric loose along Joe’s spine.</p><p>“Come <i>on</i>,” Joe replies.</p><p>“Patience,” Nicky murmurs, walking back across the room, and Joe can’t help but watch him. </p><p>“You’re enjoying this,” he says, tensing the muscles in his ass and then relaxing.  There’s nothing to thrust against, no way of getting any pressure on his dick, and Nicky just smiles at him, scratching the underside of his jaw as if he has all the time in the world.  That he does, Joe thinks, doesn’t bode well.</p><p>Nicky gestures toward Joe.  “You seem to be enjoying things too.”</p><p>“Obviously,” Joe says wryly, and Nicky laughs.</p><p>“You’re doing so well,” he says. </p><p>Joe wets his lips, tries to relax into Nicky’s words.  He loves Nicky’s compliments—loves bringing Nicky pleasure in whatever way he can, but . . .</p><p>“What would you like me to do?” Nicky asks, as if he can read his mind.  “When it’s time?”</p><p>“When it’s time . . .”  Joe blows out a long breath. </p><p>“Where should I touch you first?”</p><p>Joe whines needily.  “I don’t know.”  His mind is fogging up with want.</p><p>“Perhaps your mouth.  You have a beautiful mouth,” Nicky says, and Joe feels his cheeks heat.  Such a simple compliment, and yet . . .  </p><p>“Nicky . . .”</p><p>“Perhaps your inner thigh.  You’re so sensitive there.”</p><p>Joe feels his heartbeat pick up its pace at the memory of other times Nicky has kissed his way from Joe’s knee to his dick, how it’s felt when Nicky’s taken him into his mouth.  He swallows hard, feels pre-come drip onto his belly and shivers.  Nicky stands up and walks toward the bed, hands in his pockets and Joe turns his head to see him better.  He’s gratified to see that Nicky’s tenting the front of his own pants, that he’s just as turned on as Joe.  Joe’s fingers twitch and Nicky raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“I want to touch you,” Joe says, as if it’s not obvious, and Nicky rests a knee on the mattress, leans over and presses a kiss to Joe’s nipple, swirls his tongue there, then nips at it gently.  Joe’s hips come up off the bed and he gasps, the muscles in his belly twitching.</p><p>Nicky’s eyes are fucking twinkling as he pulls away, but he licks his palm and Joe cants his hips, hoping, hoping, wanting Nicky’s hand.  Nicky doesn’t tease this time, wraps his strong fingers around Joe’s dick and works him, firm enough that Joe swears, but moving slowly enough that he realizes he’s still not going to come.</p><p>“Fuck,” Joe manages, and he knows he sounds inarticulate, but he can’t bring himself to care.  Nicky leans in and kisses him – a soft, gentle brush of his lips - then stills his hand and pulls away, leaving Joe so frustrated that he curses.  He swears fervently in more than one language, making his point, and fists his hands in the sheets to stop himself reaching out for Nicky, or worse, for himself.</p><p>“Hush,” Nicky offers gently, going back to sit, to watch Joe with a singular intensity. </p><p>The pattern repeats two more times, then three, Nicky working Joe within moments of coming before he turns and walks away.  Joe’s reduced to mindless begging—“please, please, <i>please</i>,”—before Nicky’s hands go to the buttons of his own shirt and he shrugs out of it.  Joe’s breathing is too quick for him to hum his appreciation as he wants, but he watches Nicky let the shirt drop to the floor, and finds his mouth entirely dry. They’ve been doing this together for nine hundred years, and yet Joe is sure he’ll never tire of how Nicky looks, the breadth of his shoulders, the sharp jut of his hips.  Nicky keeps undressing, entirely unhurried, and once he’s naked licks his palm again.  Joe raises his head hopefully, but Nicky begins to stroke his own dick, keeping eye contact with Joe the whole time.</p><p>“Oh, you bastard,” Joe manages, but there’s no heat to it.  It’s beautiful to watch. </p><p>Nicky smiles—soft but dangerous—and sinks one knee into the mattress between Joe’s legs, then the other.  His hand never stills.  “Do you know how much I love you?” he asks.</p><p>Joe flushes, panting.</p><p>“Seeing you so turned on, so willing to wait. . .”  Nicky’s hand speeds up and he gasps a little as he twists his hand around the head of his cock.</p><p>Joe whines.  “Let me,” he says, his right hand twitching against the sheets.</p><p>Nicky shakes his head.  “No.”  His breath is coming quickly, and Joe feels beside himself with want.  He knows the heavy weight of Nicky’s dick on his tongue, and wants the salt-sweet taste of him at the back of his mouth; he wants Nicky’s body on top of him, weighing him down; he wants Nicky filling him, making him wordless with the thrust of his hips.  Joe’s cock bobs again.  He’s so hard it’s a hair's breadth from actual pain.</p><p>“You’re so good,” Nicky says, flushed and panting, and then he’s coming, body bent forward, come striping Joe’s belly, and Joe twists beneath him, desperate to come himself.  Nicky works himself until there’s nothing more, until he shivers from sensitivity, but he never breaks eye contact, and Joe whimpers with frustration.</p><p>“<i>Nicky</i>,” he pleads, and Nicky nods, leaning to place his hands on Joe’s hips, pressing him firmly down into the mattress.  He ducks his head and licks a stripe from Joe’s balls to the head of his cock and Joe cries out, tries to buck but can’t.  “Please,” he says, afraid that Nicky will stop.  But Nicky doesn’t—he licks his lips and takes Joe into the slick heat of his mouth, sucks on the head of Joe’s cock and then takes him deep.  Joe swears, thighs trembling, feels his balls tighten—lifts his head to see Nicky better, to see himself disappear between Nicky’s lips, over and over, and <i>fuck</i>, when he comes it’s with a shout, emptying himself, body bucking against Nicky’s hands.  Nicky swallows it all.</p><p>Things get hazy after that.  Nicky cleans them both up – Joe’s vaguely aware of the swipe of a damp cloth over his skin – all the while praising Joe softly, pressing gentle kisses to his face, to his shoulder, to his chest.  Joe drifts, trembling and stilling as aftershocks run through him, until Nicky lies beside him and he nudges Joe to take a bottle from his hands.  “Drink,” he coaxes, so Joe blinks to attention, props himself up on one shaky elbow and does so.  He’s thirsty – drains the bottle and tosses it aside, flops back into the pillows.</p><p>Nicky kisses his temple, the hollow of his throat, and then finds his lips – kisses Joe so sweetly no one would ever imagine what he’d done with his gaze and his touch minutes before.  Joe responds, humming happily, and then Nicky gathers Joe up, wraps his arms around him, lets Joe pillow his head against Nicky’s shoulder.  Joe relaxes into him, body heavy and sated, closes his eyes and lets himself sink.</p><p>“I love you,” Nicky murmurs.  “My beautiful Yusuf.  So beautiful.”</p><p>Joe rubs his cheek against Nicky’s shoulder and turns his head just enough to press a kiss to Nicky’s skin.  “My love,” he mumbles.</p><p>As Joe drifts he realizes that their roles have reversed--that now Nicky is the one waiting, with far greater patience than Joe has ever managed, for Joe.  “Sleep, love,” Nicky whispers.  “I have you.”  And the safety Joe feels, the gratitude that wells up inside him makes something bloom hot and bright in his chest, makes his breath hitch and stutter before it evens out into a long exhale.  Nicky murmurs soft endearments into his hair, and Joe hovers a moment longer on the edge of sleep to absorb this feeling of being so cherished, so loved.  “I have you,” Nicky repeats, and Joe lets go entirely, trusts Nicky to catch him as he falls.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>With thanks to siria for beta!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847182">[Podfic] Fidûcia</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallysparrow017/pseuds/sallysparrow017">sallysparrow017</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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